


Snowbound: A Tale of Eros and the Ice Prince

by Caeseria



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bottom Victor Nikiforov, Eros Katsuki Yuuri, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Roleplay, Slow Burn, Top Katsuki Yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 06:32:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8963332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caeseria/pseuds/Caeseria
Summary: It’s Christmas – and Victor’s birthday – and Yuuri and Victor decide to spend it in Saint Petersburg.  When a massive snowstorm knocks out the power, Victor decides to pass the time by telling Yuuri a story; a Tale of Eros and the Ice Prince.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Victor's birthday. Happy Birthday Victor!!! (And Merry Christmas to everyone!) I hope you enjoy the story; I wanted to write something Christmasy with snow and this is the result <3
> 
> And because I'm like that, I also wrote the entire fairy tale separately, before I started writing the smut, so if anyone is remotely interested I might post that later on :)
> 
> (Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://caeseria.tumblr.com/) if you want!)
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Yuuri’s just stepped out of the bath and is reaching for a towel when the power goes out.  The blackness is instantaneous, blinding, and he freezes in mid-step.  _Maybe the power will come back on_ , he thinks.  He has no idea how reliable the power is in Saint Petersburg; does it go out often when it snows hard? Is this normal? He waits a few seconds, then starts drying off because, power or not, he’s going to freeze if he doesn’t get dressed.  He drapes the towel over his hair and pulls on his sweatpants, cursing the fact that he didn’t bring a t-shirt in with him. 

After a few moments, he can hear Victor outside in the living area.  “Yuuri, are you okay?” Victor calls.

“I think so.”  Yuuri takes a couple of hesitant steps toward where he thinks the door is, because he’s unused to the layout of Victor’s apartment.  He reaches out with a hand; nothing.  Another two steps, then one more, and his fingertips brush against the door.  He lets out a relieved sigh; now he’s got his bearings.  He fumbles for the door handle and steps carefully into the hallway.  The apartment is pitch dark, silent.  Then he hears a small noise and light flares, tiny and bright, morphing into a warm, flickering glow. 

Victor appears at the end of the hallway, candle in hand.  All Yuuri can see at this distance without his glasses is the shape of Victor’s face, hand held close to the candle to stop it from going out.  He walks toward Yuuri, steps sure because of course he knows his apartment like the back of his hand; could, and probably does, walk around in the dark.  He stops before Yuuri and the glow from the candle wraps around them both like a warm blanket.

“Sorry,” Victor says, like he can control both the weather and the reliability of the power grid.  “This happens sometimes when we get a good snowstorm.”

They’d arrived yesterday – Christmas Eve – with the intention of spending a few days in Saint Petersburg before returning to Hasetsu for the rest of the winter season. The snow had started as they’d left the airport and hasn’t let up since.  When Yuuri had woken up, the ground was already covered in a new layer of snow and, around mid-morning, the storm had moved in in earnest, a blanket of drifting white against a heavy, brooding gray sky.  Yuuri finds it beautiful to watch, mesmerizing, something he’ll never get tired of because, although it does snow in Hasetsu, it’s never really dangerous.  What Victor describes as a _good snowstorm_ is something that would cripple Hasetsu for a week, a rare event that would probably get talked about for decades, blow by blow accounts becoming the stuff of legend.

Victor takes Yuuri’s hand and pulls him toward the living room.  He sits Yuuri on the couch and places the candle on the table, then kneels before Yuuri.  “Can I?” he asks, reaching up for the towel Yuuri’s draped over his wet hair.  Yuuri nods, leans toward Victor; he likes it when Victor does little things like this.  He likes Victor’s touch, intimate and careful, and now is no different as Victor slowly dries his hair.  He pulls the towel away, reaches up, and pushes Yuuri’s fringe back off his forehead.  He grins.  “There’s my Eros, bound in snow,” he says, fondness coloring his voice.

Yuuri moves to the edge of the seat, into Victor’s space, and places a gentle kiss on his lips.  “Always yours,” he says, breathes it like a prayer.

Victor looks surprised for a second, then his eyelids lower; he gets that heavy-lidded look that Yuuri likes so much.  “Let’s stay in,” he says suggestively.

Yuuri lets out a surprised laugh.  “You still wanted to go out for dinner in _this_ weather?”

Victor pouts.  “I was looking forward to wearing the shirt and tie you bought me for my birthday.”  

Yuuri had originally bought the shirt and tie in Barcelona but, once he’d decided to give Victor the gold ring as an omamori, he’d held off.  It takes him a moment to realize that Victor’s wearing the shirt now; in the darkness, he’d not noticed, and he hadn’t been wearing it earlier.  It’s black silk, soft and delicate and, now that Yuuri’s paying attention, he can see Victor’s got it half-buttoned up, leaving it open just enough to show some of his chest and the fine line of his neck beneath the collar.  Yuuri’s mouth goes a little dry at the sight; he’s never been able to resist Victor in a dress shirt and suit, especially those three-piece ones he seems to prefer when he’s in public.

“We’ll stay in,” Victor repeats, “have a glass of wine, watch the snow fall and rejoice in the fact that we are not outside in it.”

Yuuri grins.  “That sounds preferable, although it’s kind of a shame since it’s your birthday.”

“Its just another day,” Victor says with a shrug.  “What’s important is that I’m spending it with you, here.  One should always make good memories in a place, yes?  Before, there was only me; now there’s two of us.  We can start a new chapter here, together.”

Yuuri bites his lip.  “Are you sure you want to do this? To come back here and coach me?”

Victor takes Yuuri’s hand.  “Of course. You are my future. Although I will miss the sound of the seagulls in Hasetsu.”

“Black tailed gulls,” Yuuri deadpans, and laughs.

“Ah, that’s right.  You told me that on the beach the first time you turned me down as your boyfriend.”

“Victor!” Yuuri gives him a playful push. “Go get the wine; it’s starting to get cold in here.”

“There are other ways to warm you up,” Victor suggests, cocking his head to the side.  “But wine is a good start.”  He lifts Yuuri’s hand and places a kiss to the gold ring there.

Yuuri watches Victor as he stands, walks to the kitchen with no hesitation in his step.  Victor is a being made of grace and beauty, and Yuuri will never get tired of just watching him move.  It’s the same on the ice; Victor never fails to leave him breathless.

Victor fiddles around; he’s left a bottle of wine out to breathe, and he pulls out two glasses, then reaches under the counter for more candles.  He lights a couple, spreading the warm, flickering light through the apartment.  Now that he can see better, Yuuri wanders over to the window.  The city is in darkness but, as his eyes adjust, he can see that it’s not a true darkness, not absolute.  They’re on the third floor, and he can see the empty streets below, snow blanketing the parked cars.  There’s not a soul to be seen; clearly most people are inside sheltering from the storm.  The snow is still falling in a heavy curtain, the flakes large as they drift past the window.  He hears Victor pad up behind him, and Victor passes him a glass of wine.  Yuuri takes a sip; it’s heavy, slightly tart but sweet, the type that, if you drink too much, guarantees a headache come morning.

“Strong,” Yuuri comments.

“This is a good wine for winter,” Victor says, chinking his glass to Yuuri’s before he places it on the window sill and wraps both his arms around Yuuri’s bare waist.  “Like the Canadians, the more snow you get, the more alcohol we consume.  Although, judging by what I’ve seen of Chris, I’d say the Swiss fit into that category, too.”

Yuuri laughs.  He’s seen Canada in the snow; it’s beautiful although, maybe once, he thinks, he’d like to travel somewhere when it’s summer and a little warmer.  He’s spent close to sixteen years of his life on the ice in the summer; now, maybe he and Victor can go somewhere warm together, make new memories.

Victor rests his chin on Yuuri’s shoulder, nuzzles into his neck.  Yuuri can feel him part his lips, placing a delicate kiss on his shoulder.  He shivers, feels heat curl in his gut, the stirrings of desire.  He leans his head back, a silent invitation, and he hears Victor breathe out a soft laugh.  “You look sexy like this,” Victor says.  “Limned in candlelight, reflected in the window.”

“Huh?” Yuuri blinks and glances at the window.  All he can see is the falling snow.  He blinks again, trying to adjust his vision, and then he understands.  If he ignores what’s outside, he can see his and Victor’s reflection in the glass.  The candles throw just enough light to create a reflection, and Yuuri tenses as mortification warms his cheeks.  Victor tightens his arms so Yuuri can’t pull away. 

“Shh,” Victor soothes.  “The streets are empty; nobody can see. And, if there were people, they wouldn’t be looking up, not with the snow falling.”  He places another kiss to Yuuri’s neck, smooths one hand up Yuuri’s chest and then down again. 

Victor never fails to surprise Yuuri, and this is no exception.  Tonight feels intimate; maybe it’s the weather, or the fact that the power’s out – maybe because it’s Christmas, or Victor’s birthday – but the evening feels somewhat breathless, a little magical.  “Do you know what we did as children to pass the time in this sort of weather?” Victor’s still placing kisses along Yuuri’s shoulder and, now that Victor’s pointed it out, Yuuri is watching him in the window.  Victor knows it too; he keeps shooting Yuuri’s reflection little glances every time he places a kiss, nibbles at Yuuri’s neck.  Yuuri can’t look away; it’s fascinating and arousing all at the same time.

“Yuuri?”  Victor reaches around and takes Yuuri’s glass of wine, putting it next to his on the sill.  “Are you distracted?”

“Huh?” Yuuri focuses back in on Victor’s voice, tries to ignore the way his body reacts to Victor’s touch.  “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”  Victor rests his hands on Yuuri’s waist, steps closer until Yuuri can feel Victor pressed against the length of his body.  Yuuri shifts; fits his body closer, pushes his ass into the cradle of Victor’s hips in a not-so-subtle invitation.  Victor draws in a soft breath, tightens his hands on Yuuri’s bare waist, slides them down to Yuuri’s hips.  “Shall I tell you a story?”

It’s the last thing Yuuri expects.  “A story?” he blurts out in surprise.

“Hmm.  I was saying, when it snows like this, you should always have a good story handy to pass the time.”

“I can think of other things to do,” Yuuri says before he can stop the words from leaving his mouth.

“You never fail to surprise me, Katsuki Yuuri,” Victor laughs.  “Just when I think I have you figured out, you say something like that.”  Yuuri feels his face heat and Victor leans around for a kiss.  “I think you’ll like this story.”

Yuuri’s willing to play along; he always will when it’s Victor.  “Okay, tell me your story, then.  I’ll judge whether it’s more exciting than my alternative.”

“Hmm, I like a challenge.” Victor leans forward, reaching for his wine glass.  He takes a sip, and passes it to Yuuri.  Yuuri decides he does like the wine after all; it’s rich enough to stave off the chill, although maybe that’s got something to do with Victor being draped over him. 

“Once upon a time,” Victor says, gesturing with a hand.

Now Yuuri really lets out a laugh.  He’s watching Victor in the window and, somehow, Victor’s managing to look dramatic even with his other hand still resting on Yuuri’s hip.  “Oh god, you are serious,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“Of course I’m serious.  This is a Russian thing; the flair for dramatics.” Victor pauses.  “As I was saying: Once upon a time, there was a handsome man.  He was well respected and held in high regard, but he was lonely.”

Victor seems determined to tell his story, so Yuuri decides he might as well get into the spirit of it. “Does the handsome man have a name?” Yuuri asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“His name is Vitya.  Grand Prince Vitya.”

“He sounds rather important,” Yuuri says, trying to hold back another laugh, and failing.

Victor pouts, like he knows Yuuri’s making fun of him, but he continues.  “Quite often, at the end of the day, Vitya would take a walk along the river bank, to think about what he had accomplished.  His life was hollow because, despite all his accomplishments, his life felt empty.”

Yuuri shifts; this is almost uncomfortable suddenly, too close to home from what Victor’s told him of his own life.  “Victor – “

“Shh, I’m allowed dramatics in my own story,” he says lightly, and he places another kiss on Yuuri’s shoulder.  “Now watch me as I tell the story.”

Yuuri does as he’s told, fixes his gaze back on the reflection.  Victor doesn’t look sad; rather, he looks almost fierce, his expression at odds with the tone of his voice.

“Vitya loved the river most during mid-winter, when the nights were clear and crisp.  When the river froze, it was like a glittering mirror that reflected the moon, and the stars shined like diamonds through the ice.”

Yuuri can almost see the picture Victor is painting.  Despite the storm outside, inside the apartment the atmosphere is still, breathless.  Victor trails a hand up Yuuri’s side, across a ticklish spot, and he almost drops the wine glass when his stomach flips at the sensation.  He puts the glass back on the window sill, places his hand over Victor’s, but doesn’t interrupt him, resting his head on Victor’s shoulder instead, letting himself be drawn into the tale.

“As Vitya walked beneath the Christmas Star one cold night, he caught sight of a shadow moving beneath the ice.  Enthralled by the shadow’s movement, Vitya stepped out onto the frozen river, intent on following it.  It moved in a graceful ballet, skimming close to his feet playfully, pausing, and then darting away in a dance of seduction.” 

Victor’s hand trails across Yuuri’s stomach, the touch light and sensual, and Yuuri pulls in a shaky breath when Victor’s fingers dip just below the waistband of his sweatpants. 

“Vitya sank to his knees and swept away the thin dusting of snow that obscured his view.  He drew in a shocked breath, because it was then that he realized that the shadow beneath his feet belonged to a young, breathtakingly handsome man.” Victor places a kiss on Yuuri’s shoulder, and Yuuri can see the smile on his lips in the reflection, as well as feel it against his skin.  Victor’s hand sweeps up, over Yuuri’s bangs, pushing them back, almost in introduction.  “The man was watching him, as if through a mirror’s reflection, hands pressed to the underside of the ice.  This man did not seem concerned that he was underwater; he moved as if he was one with the river.  Vitya had heard stories and legends of succubae, in particular of Eros, who would draw unsuspecting travellers in with his siren song, his breathtaking looks, the way he danced, desire and sin personified.  Vitya did not realize it, but he was already lost to Eros’ siren call.”

Victor pulls at Yuuri, turns him gently around, and places a gentle kiss to Yuuri’s lips.  Yuuri opens, lets Victor in because, if there’s one thing he can’t resist, it’s Victor, especially when he’s having one of his dramatic moments. Victor snakes an arm around Yuuri, pulls him closer, until they are hip to hip.  Victor’s half hard already and Yuuri rocks forward instinctively, deepening the kiss as he moves against Victor.  Victor lets out a breathless moan, pulling back slowly.  In the light from the candles, he looks beautiful, eyes half lidded with desire, a little bit of excitement.  Yuuri licks his lips, leans back in, fisting his hands in Victor’s shirt.  The silk is warm from Victor’s body heat, just like Yuuri knew it would be.  It feels soft and delicate against the hard muscle of Victor’s chest, and he can’t help but run his hands downward, tracing the fine lines of Victor’s body beneath the fabric. 

“I want you,” Yuuri breathes against Victor’s lips.  He wants to watch Victor unravel slowly, delicately.

“You’re jumping ahead of the story,” Victor says with a husky laugh.

“Hurry up and finish it then.”  Yuuri knows he’s pouting, because Victor leans in for another kiss; a thorough one that short-circuits Yuuri’s brain cells.

“Vitya leaned closer, until his hands were pressed down, mirroring those of the man below.  It was then that Vitya felt the ice give, as if he was melting into it.  He was about to pull away when Eros reached out, pushing upward, and Vitya felt their fingers intertwine.”  Victor holds up both hands and, hesitantly, Yuuri pushes his palms against Victor’s.  Victor curls his fingers through Yuuri’s, in imitation of the story he’s spinning. 

“I think I know how this goes,” Yuuri says, tightening his fingers over Victor’s.  He drops his voice until it’s deliberately seductive, channels some of his Eros persona.  He straightens, watches Victor’s eyes go wide, maybe with surprise, and then he smirks.  “Eros smiles at Vitya and begins to pull him down, unresisting, into the ice.” 

Victor looks a little shell-shocked, but not because Yuuri’s essentially hijacked his story.  Yuuri’s well aware what his Eros persona is capable of, and it only take a matter of seconds for him to decide that this might be a great deal of fun.  _I wonder how far I can push this?_ he thinks _.  How far will Victor let me go; will he play along? Or was he hoping for this the whole time?_

Yuuri continues. “With a single pull, Eros drags Prince Vitya down through the ice to his Ice Castle. Vitya simply cannot resist Eros’ call; he goes willingly, captive to his own seduction.” 

Victor pulls in a sharp breath, lets it out slowly. “And what does Eros do with his captive, Yuuri?”

Yuuri thinks for a moment.  He turns Victor’s hand over, pushing up the cuff of his shirt just enough to expose his wrist.  “Eros knows that Vitya cannot stay warm in Ice Castle; that eventually, Vitya will freeze to death,” Yuuri says.  His voice is low, intimate, and he looks up, watching Victor’s eyes widen slightly, his breath hitch.  “Eros chooses to give Vitya his first gift; a kiss, to numb him to the effects of the cold.”  Yuuri leans over Victor’s hand, places his lips to Victor’s pulse.  He knows that this drives Victor crazy – it’s something he discovered by accident a couple of months ago – and he parts his lips, flicks his tongue across the sensitive skin.  He feels Victor’s hand tremble in his, his fingers curl in response, like he wants to pull Yuuri closer.  Yuuri pulls away, takes in the breathtaking sight of Victor, lost to Yuuri’s touch.  Victor’s cheekbones are flushed with delicate heat, and Yuuri wonders just how far he can push the game before Victor loses all reason. 

“Yuuri, you’re a tease,” Victor breathes.

“I know.”  He drops Victor’s hand, steps into his space until they are chest to chest, and slides his hands along Victor’s shoulders to the nape of his neck, fingers sifting through the fine, short hair there.  He leans in, just shy of actually kissing Victor.  “But Eros has another, final gift for Vitya.  A kiss to ignite the passion hidden deep in his soul.”  Yuuri closes the distance, presses his lips to Victor’s.  Victor moans, wraps his arms around Yuuri’s waist and pulls him close, opens to let Yuuri in.  Yuuri feels a surge of longing course through him, whipcord tight after the slow teasing of earlier, and he licks into Victor’s mouth.  The kiss is almost harsh, but Victor gives as good as he gets, sliding a leg between Yuuri’s, rocking forward.  Victor’s hands tangle in Yuuri’s hair, holding him in place and, for a moment, it’s overwhelming, and Yuuri wants nothing more than to melt, to give himself body and soul to this man, over and over.

When Victor breaks the kiss, they are both panting harshly.  Victor rests his forehead against Yuuri’s, and Yuuri lets his eyes close, grounding himself.

After a moment, Victor whispers, “What does Eros do next?”

Yuuri opens his eyes, meets Victor’s gaze.  “Huh?”

Victor laughs.  “Well, now that Eros has awakened Vitya’s long-denied passion, what does he do?”

Victor’s waiting.  He seems genuinely interested in what Yuuri might invent next, but Yuuri’s brain seems to want to function purely on desire at the moment.  He takes a step back, curls his fingers around Victor’s wrist and tugs.  “Let me show you,” he says huskily, and pulls Victor toward the bedroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time they make it to the bedroom, Victor’s hands are everywhere; palms dragging across Yuuri’s skin, fingers at the waistband of his pants, making his skin hyper-sensitive to the touch.  Yuuri finally gets Victor’s shirt unbuttoned; he pushes it over Victor’s muscular shoulders, tugging it down until he can take it off.  He kisses along Victor’s neck, nipping at the skin.  He likes the way Victor’s breath hitches, the way he tilts his head to give Yuuri better access.  Victor smooths his palms over Yuuri’s chest, across his nipples.  He leans in for a kiss, wet and messy, hard, and urgent.  Yuuri’s rapidly losing his mind, unravelling into pure sensation, a creature of need. 

He has an idea though; as much as he wants to let go, to place himself in Victor’s hands, he’s decided he wants to return the favor tonight.  It’s Victor’s birthday, and Yuuri thinks he knows what Victor wants now that he’s heard Victor’s story; what Victor doesn’t ask for very often. The thought makes Yuuri’s mouth go dry with anticipation.

Victor’s hands are still everywhere, across his back, trailing down his stomach, Victor placing kisses wherever he can reach.  Yuuri winds an arm around Victor’s waist, steers him backward toward the bed.  At some point, probably before the power went out and while Yuuri was taking a bath, Victor came in here and lit a couple of candles, so at least Yuuri can see what he’s doing.

The back of Victor’s knees hit the edge of the bed and he’s falling onto the mattress, pulling Yuuri with him.  Yuuri goes with the flow, slides a leg between Victor’s and tries to resist the urge to rut against Victor’s hip.  While that plan has its merits, it’s not exactly romantic.  He pulls away reluctantly, poised above Victor on his hands and knees, taking in the impressive sight of Victor Nikiforov, half naked, mussed, and very much aroused. 

“Yuuri,” Victor pouts.  “Come back down here.”  He reaches out, tracing a path up Yuuri’s arm with his fingertips.  It sends a shiver over Yuuri’s skin, down his spine, and he leans in for a thorough, mind-blowing kiss that has Victor bucking beneath him on the bed.  He kisses along Victor’s jaw, down his neck and then his chest, circling his tongue around Victor’s nipple, teasing.  He closes his mouth over it, and Victor tangles a hand in his hair, lets out a rough moan.  Yuuri drags his teeth over Victor’s nipple, and then sucks hard.  Victor’s hand tightens in Yuuri’s hair, almost painfully, and this time it’s Yuuri who lets out a shuddering breath.  He trails his fingertips over Victor’s stomach, feels the hard muscles flutter at his touch, and then he’s unbuttoning Victor’s pants.  He palms Victor’s cock through his underwear, watches the way Victor arches on the mattress, pushing up into his hand. 

Yuuri will never grow tired of watching Victor come undone.  Victor has the body of an athlete, all lean, long muscle, and he loves watching the way Victor moves beneath him.  Victor skates like a god on the ice, all tight control and grace, but in bed, like this, when he trembles, when he shatters, he’s breathtaking.

Yuuri mouths his way down Victor’s body, swirling his tongue in the dip of Victor’s hipbone, nibbling at the skin.  He moves down, hand closing around something on the bed.  Yuuri pauses; then places a final kiss to Victor’s skin and sits upright.  He’s holding Victor’s tie in his hand – the one he bought him for his birthday – and he moves, as if to toss it to the side.  Victor’s hand closes over his wrist, stalling him for a moment.  He’s leaning up on one elbow, watching Yuuri through half-lidded eyes.  Slowly, he pushes up onto his hand and leans in, until his breath is hot on Yuuri’s neck, just below his ear.  “Eros has Vitya captive, does he not?” he whispers, swiping his tongue slowly along Yuuri’s neck, pausing just below his jaw.  “You know what to do with that, then.”  He kisses Yuuri’s neck, then flops back down onto the bed, raising his arms above his head and crossing his wrists.

For a moment, Yuuri’s stunned into inaction, but then Victor smirks, wiggles suggestively beneath him, and it’s Victor’s playful expression more than anything that goads Yuuri into action.  He slides up the bed, leaning over Victor, and before he can think too much about what he’s about to do, loops the tie around Victor’s wrists and secures it to the head of the bed with a slip knot.  Victor twists his wrists experimentally. “Not bad,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

 _In for a penny, in for a pound,_ Yuuri thinks _.  Let’s play._ “You’re talking too much, _Vitya_ ,” Yuuri remarks, lowering his voice suggestively. “I guess I’ll just have to make sure the only thing coming from your pretty mouth is begging.” 

Yuuri half expects Victor to laugh but, instead, he draws in a sharp breath, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “God, Yuuri,” he says, dragging out the syllables of Yuuri’s name as his accent suddenly asserts itself.

Yuuri sucks in a surprised breath at the way Victor’s voice changes, the way he trips over Yuuri’s name.  It sends a hard surge of lust through him, and he covers Victor’s mouth with his, kissing hard, before moving down the length of his body, picking up where he left off; namely, getting Victor out of his pants as quickly as possible. He curls his fingers in the waistband, pulls both his pants and underwear down.  Victor lifts his hips to help, at the same time presenting a glorious image.  He’s fully aroused, the head of his cock leaking fluid all ready, and Yuuri swipes his tongue over it in passing as he pulls Victor’s pants all the way off, tossing them to the floor.

“You’re definitely a tease,” Victor gasps. 

Yuuri smirks.  “Oh, I haven’t even started yet,” he says. 

Victor twists his wrists in the bindings, arches his back and spreads his legs in blatant invitation.  Yuuri’s left with no doubt that this is what Victor wants, and the thought of it is enough to make his cock twitch.  Victor catches that, a slow, lazy smile spreading across his face.  He licks his lips, the tip of his tongue peeking out for a moment.  “Show me your Eros, Yuuri,” he breathes, and this time his voice is full of need, laced with desire and longing.

Yuuri doesn’t need a second invitation; he kneels between Victor’s legs, runs his hands over the glorious expanse of Victor’s pale skin, and takes Victor’s cock into his mouth, all the way down in one, single, smooth movement.  Victor bucks beneath him, surprised no doubt, and Yuuri grips hold of his hips, holding him down as he pulls back, swirling his tongue around the head of Victor’s cock before taking him in again.  He watches Victor, gauges his pace on Victor’s reactions, the noises he makes.  Victor’s unravelling fast, which is unusual, Yuuri thinks.  He wraps his hand around the base of Victor’s cock, begins jerking him off at the same time, pushing Victor hard toward orgasm.  Victor clearly wants to let go, to let Yuuri take control, and he’s happy to oblige.

He’s had enough practice at this now to be able to tell the signs, to gauge the moment when Victor’s breathing becomes harsh and ragged, and he pulls off at the last moment, tightening his fingers around the base of Victor’s cock.  Victor’s hips jerk and he arches, head thrown back, a half-bitten off moan stuttering in his throat.  Yuuri feels his cock jerk, but he’s timed it perfectly; Victor’s just shy of coming, teetering on the edge.  Slowly, he releases Victor, slides up his body.  He runs his fingers along Victor’s jaw; Victor’s still panting, but softly now, body trembling.  His eyes are glazed, lips slack, slightly parted.

Yuuri leans down and mouths kisses across Victor’s jaw, down his neck.  “ _Pleasure upon pleasure_ ,” he whispers.  “This is what you told me Eros was, months ago in Hasetsu.”  He closes his lips over the sensitive skin, grazes it with his teeth, sucks a mark into the skin there.  He feels Victor roll his hips beneath him as the slight sting of the love bite registers, and Yuuri lowers himself down over Victor’s body, sliding a leg between his thighs.  He moves another inch down; leaves another mark of ownership on Victor’s neck.  He couldn’t have done this a few weeks ago, when both of them were in the public spotlight, but now, they’re far away from that, and Yuuri wants to leave little reminders, marks that they both know shows proof of Yuuri’s love, hidden beneath Victor’s clothing. 

Victor turns his head, exposes his neck further, and Yuuri takes advantage, swiping his tongue over the first bite, deepening the bruise.  Victor makes a small noise, almost a catch in his throat, and he rolls his hips against Yuuri’s.  Yuuri can feel how hard Victor still is; his own dick aches for release, but he wants to play with Victor, won’t let himself give into the need yet, not until he has Victor begging like he promised.  He works his way down Victor’s body again, leaving a final mark on his hip, just in the shadow of his hipbone.  Victor’s cock is leaking pre-come again, leaving a wet trail across his belly, just below his navel.  Yuuri trails his fingers along the length of Victor’s erection, closes his hand around it, and strokes him slowly. 

This time, he takes Victor’s mouth in a unhurried, deep kiss. 

“Yuuri, Christ,” Victor gasps, breaking the kiss.  He pushes up into Yuuri’s fist, almost desperate now, because he knows just as well as Yuuri what’s going to happen next.  He twists his hands in the bindings, making an abortive pulling movement at the same time as he thrusts upward into Yuuri’s hand.  He doesn’t move to release the binding, however.

“Are you close, _Vitya_?” Yuuri asks, already knowing the answer.  “Do you want to come?  Shall I let you?”

Victor’s eyes are closed, his skin flushed a hectic pink across his cheekbones.  Any sign of the everyday, public Victor, well-dressed and well-put together, is gone.  His skin is covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and Yuuri can’t resist leaning down and licking into Victor’s navel.  He loves the way Victor tastes, the warmth of his skin, the way the muscles of his belly tremble when he’s close. 

When Yuuri stops this time, Victor actually whines, the sound pulled from his throat almost without volition.  “I take back what I said,” he gasps after a moment.  “You’re the devil, not Eros.  Please… _Yuuri_ , I love you, but I can’t take much more.”  He swallows, eye flickering closed for the moment, like he’s tasting the words before he speaks them, trying them out.  “Yuuri, I need you inside me; I want you to fuck me.  _Please_.”

Yuuri sucks in shaky breath.  The words are filthy, arousing, and they sound like sin coming from Victor’s mouth. If someone had told him ten months ago that Victor Nikiforov would be tied to a bed, begging for his cock, Yuuri’s brain would have short-circuited.  As it is, he barely has the presence of mind to slide from the bed, to fumble around in his travel bag for a packet of lube.  He slides off his sweatpants and underwear, and when he turns around, Victor is watching him, an almost predatory, hungry look of anticipation on his face.  His hands are clenched into fists above the bindings, his body a tight line of need. 

Yuuri doesn’t need a further invitation; he slides back between Victor’s thighs, opens the packet of lube, and coats himself with it, gritting his teeth at the raw pleasure now that he’s touching himself.  He moves, listens as words of encouragement spill from Victor’s lips like honey; _yes, Yuuri, come on, please, I can’t wait…_ Victor’s more than ready, and they’ve done this before, so Yuuri lines up, presses forward gently.  He feels Victor push back, and suddenly he’s inside, all tight, fluttering heat.  Yuuri gasps, the sensation overwhelming, mind-blowing, and he curls forward over Victor.  Victor’s panting softly, and then he rolls his hips, pushing back down on Yuuri’s cock impatiently.

“V-victor, wait,” Yuuri gasps out.  He closes a hand over Victor’s hip, attempting to still his movements, but Victor’s having none of it.  He may be bound, captive beneath Yuuri, but he knows what he wants. Yuuri pulls back, hovering at the edge of slipping right out.  He tightens his hand on Victor’s hip, fingers digging in.  Victor pauses, eyes wide, and then he goes lax, surrendering to Yuuri’s will.  In reward, Yuuri thrusts forward, watches as Victor arches up off the bed, a cry of pleasure torn from his throat.  Yuuri doesn’t pause, he rolls his hips, sliding out and then back, deep and slow.  Victor hooks his leg over Yuuri’s waist and Yuuri leans forward, bracing a hand on the bed near Victor’s shoulder, getting a deeper angle. 

“You’re so beautiful when you fuck me, Yuuri,” Victor breathes out. “I could watch you for hours.”  

Yuuri can feel a blush color his face.  He’s still not used to Victor being so talkative in bed, especially when Yuuri’s fucking him.  Still, Yuuri can’t help but respond to it, to fuck Victor harder.  He covers Victor’s mouth with his own and Victor’s response is overwhelming; he kisses like he’s drowning, like he can’t get enough, like he wants everything Yuuri has and then more.  Yuuri’s getting close, and he slows down, breaks the kiss, watching Victor.  Victor’s body is tight, trembling, his lips swollen from Yuuri’s kisses, bright red.   His neck and collarbone are covered with scattered love bites and he looks thoroughly debauched; a vision of every single one of Yuuri’s teenaged fantasies, rolled into one package.

“Do you want to come, Vitya?” Yuuri asks.  He decides he likes the way the nickname rolls off his tongue, the way Victor responds to it.  “Do you want me to touch you?”  He slides his hand down Victor’s hip, close to his cock, moving his hips in short, shallow thrusts.

“God, yes.”

Yuuri smiles, leans down for another kiss.  “Let me in all the way, Vitya,” he says.  “ _Then_ you can come.”  Victor moans; it’s a soft, needy sound, and Yuuri can feel the way he tightens around Yuuri’s cock.  “That’s right, you can do it.  Let me in, love.”

He feels Victor struggle to relax, and he holds still.  This is the final piece; Victor’s done this with Yuuri before, pushed him hard to the edge and then asked for more.  This is what Yuuri wants from Victor, craves it like air.  Victor’s muscles flutter briefly, and Yuuri sucks in a breath, nudging forward.  “Come on, Vitya,” he says, and now he’s the one coaching Victor, persuading him.  Victor struggles beneath him; it’s like he’s warring inside, wanting the control, but also wanting to let go.  With a shaky sigh Victor goes pliant beneath him, and Yuuri slides in the last inch, as deep as he can go.  The feeling is incredible, and now, as he nudges forward, he’s hitting that secret spot deep inside Victor, and Victor’s arches up, all sharp hipbones and long, lean muscle, exhaling on a shuddering breath.  Yuuri rewards him, pulling back and thrusting hard, balls deep.  He grips Victor’s waist, fucking him harder, and Victor takes it all.  His eyes are glazed, deep pools of blue in the candlelight, arms lax in the bindings.  His body trembles, and Yuuri can’t help but do the same, he’s wound tight, tighter than ever before, and the sight of Victor, pliant and fucked out beneath him, is too much. 

He wraps shaking fingers around Victor’s cock, strokes him firmly.  Victor’s body goes taut beneath his; he comes with a bitten off cry that goes straight to Yuuri’s cock.  Yuuri fucks Victor through his orgasm, rutting into his willing body until it’s simply too much.  The feel of Victor clenching around him sends him over the edge into orgasm, hard and without mercy, and he curls forward, resting his forehead on Victor’s shoulder as he gasps for air.  After a few moments, he feels Victor’s hand in his hair, carding through the strands gently, soothing, and he realizes that Victor’s finally pulled the slipknot, released himself.

With a groan, he shifts, pulling out gently and rolling to the side.  Victor follows him until they are face to face.  It takes Yuuri a moment to regroup, to open his eyes.  Victor’s watching him carefully, expression still blissed out.  “There you are,” says Victor fondly.  He leans in for a kiss, slow and gentle, before pulling back.

Yuuri traces his fingers along Victor’s jaw.  “Are you okay?” he asks, because, despite the fact he’s fucked Victor before, he’s never pushed so hard, pressed so many of Victor’s buttons.

“Hmm, more than okay,” Victor replies. “You’re gorgeous when you let go, Yuuri. It’s sexy as hell.”

The praise makes Yuuri blush again, and he tucks his face into Victor’s neck.  It’s only then that he remembers all the marks he’s left on Victor’s skin, and he pushes up onto his elbow.  “Oh god,” he says.  “I’m so sorry.”

Victor smirks, reaches out to touch his fingers to his neck.  He has a band of faint red around his wrist, from the bindings, a matching band on the other.  He presses against one bruise, and Yuuri can see his breath hitch at the slight sting.  “I like it,” Victor says, voice husky.  “It’s a reminder I can wear under my clothes.”

That shouldn’t be hot, but Yuuri can’t help but flush at the thought of Victor tomorrow, meeting up with his friends after a long absence.  Knowing that whenever Victor moves, he’ll be able to feel Yuuri’s marks on his skin, beneath his shirt.  He’ll be reminded that Yuuri fucked him, wants to do it again, _will_ do it again. 

He flops down onto the pillow, too spent to think about going again.  “So…” he begins hesitantly.  “What happened to Prince Vitya?”

Victor pauses, then laughs; a deep, rich laugh of amusement.  He watches while Victor thinks, waiting patiently.  Finally, Victor says, “Vitya fell in love with Eros and never wanted to leave Ice Castle.  As time went on, they fell further and further in love, and Eros began to morph and change.  He no longer needed his siren call because he had everything that he needed.  He became _Pragma_ , a form of long-standing love, instead.”  Victor reaches out, brushes Yuuri’s hair down over his face like he would usually wear it.  Although unspoken, Victor’s message is clear; this is the type of love he has for Yuuri.  “Pragma is mature love, of that between a couple, one of deep understanding and commitment.”

Yuuri smiles, a fond smile.  He watches as Victor returns it, leaning forward to touch his forehead to Yuuri’s. 

“And they lived happily ever after.”


End file.
